" ─ they say that targaryens are closer to gods than to man...
but they only say that because of our dragons, without them,
we're just like everyone else. ─ "
Daenys Targaryen was the second daughter to the King Viserys...
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A blur of white and red move swiftly down the halls of the castle, doing their best at not sprinting.
It was not an unusual sight for the workers of the castle to see the Princess Daenys in a hurry after seeing her Septa. The fourteen year-old's routine had not changed over the years, and now everyone had been able to memorize where the girl would be.
And right now, it was time for her to see her dearest mother, the Queen.
"Perhaps the Princess would like to slow down to avoid getting hurt?" asks Ser Quince, who is easily able to maintain the girls speed.
Daenys grinned, looking at him over her shoulder. "Perhaps not, Ser! Now please, keep haste!"
As they both get to the corridor where her parents chambers lay, the young Princess began sprinting towards the door. Ser Quince let out a sigh as he sped up with her.
The doors to the chambers opened quickly, and it caused all those in the room to turn quickly to the culprit. But when they were met with the panting Princess, they let out a sigh of relief.
"Mother!" greeted Daenys, a smile on her face as she moved towards the Queen. On the way, she greeted the handmaidens and nurses who were assigned to watch over and they gave their own back.
"My sweet girl," the Queen greets back, her arm moving up so that it gave enough room for Daenys to lay next to her and in her side. "Where were you?"
Daenys sighed, leaning her head on the side of her mother's neck. One of Aemma's hands stroked her daughter's hair, while the other nestled on her large pregnant belly.
"The Septa kept me overtime," the girl pouted, looking up to her mother as she whined. "I didn't even get enough time to get us cake!"
Aemma let out a laugh, something she does often around her youngest. "I think me and you have both eaten enough cake for a lifetime!"
Daenys let out a gasp. "Don't be ridiculous..." she giggles, and soon Aemma joins in.
Over the years, the Queen had become pregnant more times than one could count, and all had been failures, and each one left their own mark on Aemma. She had become weaker, more exhausted, and had seen enough death for a lifetime. The realities of her failures leave a dark cloud that looms over her head──the Queen had not birthed a son that survived past his first name day, and even then, a lot of her children had not survived even through pregnancy. And in honest truth, Aemma could not handle any more grief. And so, she hoped that that night she would be able to tell her husband that this would be her last pregnancy. No more could she handle the loss of another babe, the pain and torture both physically and emotionally. And although neither bore a cock, the woman was overjoyed with her two miracle daughters. And her dearest Daenys always seemed to make her feel young again.
